Poor little Corrine! As Harry noted, she didn't get much out of her first time, because Harry had ZERO chill. But he makes it up to her, I promise :)
As you might have guessed, this chapter is also rated M.
Harold unlocked the room and rushed in, flinging his hat and coat on the stand beside the door before hurrying back to the bedroom. He threw the little package on the side table and quickly undressed, lying back down on the bed. He wanted to be there and waiting for his girl when she was finished with her bath; he didn't want her to miss him, or be lonely or scared, even for a second.
Only one thing mattered to him now, and that was her.
While he waited, he had a minute to reflect on the whirlwind of the past few hours. Seeing Corrine in the restaurant that morning had given him the shock of his life; he thought at first that he was hallucinating, that his desperate longing for her had conjured her out of thin air. And then he had seen her face... and knew just how badly he had damaged her. All throughout the inquiry, he couldn't stop thinking about her haunted expression, her dull, spiritless eyes. During the breaks between witnesses, he had paced the hallways, muttering oaths to the reporters and chain-smoking, trying vainly to master his emotions. But there was no controlling the storm of guilt, misery, and anguish that had erupted inside of him, refusing to be quenched. He knew he shouldn't have bolted the proceedings right after Fleet's testimony, but he was incapable of sitting still any longer - and he had to make sure he was back in his room on the remote chance that she might agree to talk with him.
It had been selfish and presumptuous of him to ask her to meet, he knew. Whatever kind of bastard everyone thought he was, he certainly wasn't the type to cause her any additional suffering by his hand, and so he initially hesitated, knowing he had no right to plead his case with her. But whether by contrivance or happy accident, fate had given him a second chance to make it right - and in the end, he couldn't let that chance slip away.
And wonder of all wonders, she had forgiven him; she had taken him back, and given her heart to him... and it was more than he would ever deserve. But he hadn't expected just how complete their reunion would be - and how whole he would feel - until they made love for the first time. Their union was more than physical; it was spiritual, their connection now eternally unbreakable.
He never knew that a simple physical act, one he had done countless times in the past, could change a man irrevocably, remaking him entirely through the sweet alchemy of love.
He glanced over at the small spot of blood on the sheet and frowned. No matter her protestations, he knew it must have hurt when he entered her for the first time. It was the single dark cloud in his otherwise clear blue sky of a heart right now. He glanced over at the side table. At least he could spare her one consequence of his lust, though. He should've been better prepared for this... but before this morning he never even thought that he would see her again, let alone make love to her. Still, he was sure just one time wouldn't matter-
She emerged from the bath room at last with a towel wrapped around her body, her wet hair combed and hanging free... and all coherent thought fled his mind. He stared at her in frank adoration, his heart near to bursting in his chest. This girl was his, all his; he had claimed her body and heart, and in turn, she had left a permanent mark on his soul.
He rose from the tousled bed and gently tugged on the towel. "There's no need for that now, Corrine," he said, his voice not quite steady.
She blushed at her nakedness, but didn't try to cover herself. He looked at her and caught his breath. She was still pink from the hot bathwater, and he let his eyes wander over her body, from her large, soft breasts capped by pert pink nipples, to her tiny waist, her lush and curvaceous hips, delectable thighs... Dear God. He held the towel in front of himself so she didn't see his immediate and throbbing physical reaction to her body. The self-restraint he had been honing for nearly a decade and a half was put to the test every single time he was near her. If she knew how constantly and ferociously he hungered for her, she might flee in fear. He had to make sure he didn't frighten her away with his intensity... he wanted to do right by her, in every possible way.
And he had already cocked it up once, with that goddamn premature orgasm earlier. How embarrassing - to come like he was a fourteen year old boy again, all sloppy and eager. He would have to make it up to her both promptly and thoroughly.
But he wasn't ashamed - not really, anyway. First of all, he couldn't help it; her body had felt incredible, a perfect fit... like she had been made for him. A lock to his key, so to speak. And second... well, he felt safe with her. She knew the real Harold Lowe, flaws and all, and loved him anyway. He could see it now as she looked up at him, big eyes full of trust and endless devotion. No one had ever looked at him that way before, with such unconditional love.
And he was very, very certain no man had ever loved a girl the way he loved his dear, sweet Corrine.
He smiled to himself. Ah, what a ridiculous, romantic fool he'd become. What a besotted prat. And oh, how he loved every second of it.
"How was your bath, my love?" he asked, dropping a messy kiss onto her soft, pretty lips.
She sighed blissfully. "Heavenly." Then she smirked at him - wherever did she learn that? he wondered, amused - and said, "It would've been even better if you had joined me."
He analyzed her playful yet sensual expression closely. She wasn't saying it out of a sense of duty or obligation, or a desire to please him; her body language told him that she really did want him. He wasn't sure why, either. She couldn't have gotten much out of her first time... and yet, she had been giving him smoldering looks ever since she woke up, as if she could barely contain her carnal urges. Could it be that in her he had finally met not only his soulmate, but his physical match as well? Was it possible that she burned for him as much as he did for her? The thought was intoxicating, and between that epiphany and his already aroused state, he had to remind himself to breathe steadily.
As if sensing the change in his heart rate, she stepped closer to him. This time, she pulled the towel from his hand, her playful expression turning penetrating, and he knew she was getting ready to proposition him again. He smiled inwardly. This time... this time he wouldn't resist... and he wouldn't hold back on her, either. As she threw the towel to the side, though, the package on the table caught her eye, diverting her attention. "What's that?" she asked, eyebrow quirking up at him.
So she had noticed already. He had to keep reminding himself how observant she was; nothing got past her. But this was going to be a bit of a tricky conversation.
"While you were in the bath, I went to the pharmacy and picked up some, er, protection."
She looked at him, confused. Oh, she really was naive. He was going to enjoy remedying that.
"Did you use it... before?" She kept her tone very neutral, as if to prove to him that the knowledge of his past didn't bother her anymore.
"Yes. It's a sort of barrier. To prevent, well, accidents." He wasn't sure if his meaning was clear, and he was about to continue when she interrupted him.
"I don't want any more barriers between us, Harry. Ever." She said it slowly, deliberately, staring deep into his eyes all the while.
Did she know what she was agreeing to? Somehow, he thought she did; her eyes no longer held confusion, but instead reflected a profound certainty, a faith in him that left no doubt that she understood the consequences of her choice. Unbidden, an image of Corrine, big with his child, rose in his mind. His throat tightened. His child... his family...
Well, let it be, then. He grinned. "As you wish, my darling," he said for the second time that night, leading her back to the bed.
At first, they took their time, languidly caressing bare skin and exploring one another's bodies, something they hadn't had time to do earlier in their hurried desire to become one. Some of his frantic desperation had abated, and he was able to better control his physical reactions this time around. He was calmer, more deliberate, and very, very careful with her.
Gradually, slowly, their feather-light kisses intensified from gentle touches of their lips to more exploratory searchings with tongues. She sucked on his lips, and gasped as he bit hers gently. She opened her eyes once to find him watching her while they kissed, his look disbelieving, rapturous.
He allowed her to touch him this time, and she slid her fingers up and down his length, stroking him, eventually growing bold enough to caress the tip with her thumb. Then she grasped hold of him, wrapping her hand around his shaft and moving it gently up and down, testing length, thickness, and hardness in her hand. He gasped and moaned, trembling all over as she played, but he let her explore unimpeded until she had satisfied her curiosity.
Getting to know that part of him made her own body swollen, and with her hands and lips, she let him know that she wanted to feel him inside of her again. She tugged on him, pulling him by his manhood toward her aching body, and kissed him deeply, darting her tongue in and out of his mouth in a simulation of what she needed. Still, he made her wait... caressing her everywhere, playing between her legs, rubbing and kissing her sensitive nipples while she arched her back and writhed under the ministrations of his fingers and lips.
When their kissing and petting reached a fever pitch, and they were both gasping with need, he lay back on the bed. "Corrine," he said between kisses, "I think this time... you should be... on top." She paused and looked quizzically at him. "You'll be better able to control the pace, the depth... it's good for when you're a little sore."
Hesitantly, she nodded. He lifted her, showing her how to straddle him. Blushing, she reached down to grab hold of him and guide him into her opening. It felt strange for her to take control, but from his moan and the way his eyes drifted into the back of his head when she touched him, it seemed that he was enjoying it thoroughly.
She slid just the tip of him into her - she was so slippery - and saw his fists clench in the sheets, as if to prevent himself from grabbing her hips and plunging into her body. She took in a little more, and now it began to hurt a bit - her torn flesh was still tender, and her body reacted accordingly, tightening around him. He quickly opened his eyes when he felt her reaction. "Take your time, Corrine," he said soothingly, gazing up at her. He reached up and fondled her breasts, and she gasped and leaned into the touch. Slowly she opened to him, adjusting to his girth, and she continued to ease down his shaft until she had engulfed the entire length in her body at last.
She wriggled her hips on his, and his dark eyes turned liquid. "My darling," he purred, "do whatever you want to me, all right?"
Slowly, she began to move, learning the depth and pace of her body. The angle was incredible; it felt like every sensitive part of her insides was in contact with him, and when he reached up to put his hands on her breasts again, she moaned loudly and moved faster to ease the sudden need his touch had awakened. She watched him as she slid up and down his length, and the sight of him beneath her, looking up at her with wonder and ecstasy, filled her with wanton bliss. She surrendered to it, tossing her head back and rolling her hips as the heat pooled between them, and he moaned and dug his fingers into her flesh, unable to restrain himself.
Soon, her body began to ache again, but in a different way. Her body ground on his as she thrust against him, trying to ease the throbbing in her core. She quickened the pace, riding him faster... but she was becoming frustrated at her inexperience, her inability to match the rhythm her body needed. "Harry, I can't..." she whimpered, disheartened. He read the expression on her face, the craving in her eyes. He grabbed her hips and with one swift motion, he flipped them both over on the bed so that she was underneath him.
Their lips collided, and she whimpered again, this time in appreciation. She had needed him to take control, and now she surrendered herself to him entirely, wrapping her legs around his waist, throwing her head back, and moaning in delight as he took her.
He set a slow pace at first, and her body rocked rhythmically as he slid in and out of her. His strokes were rubbing her, teasing her insides... and she felt her body respond, swelling and expanding to further accommodate him. The delicious friction created from his movements soon awakened a new kind of sensation, a building pressure in her center that simultaneously alarmed and thrilled her. She felt exquisitely sensitive, every nerve ending quivering and sparking, while the heat between her legs grew with every thrust. Her hips began moving of their own volition, in time with his own rhythm, pushing him deeper, deeper inside of her, burying him to the hilt.
Now she was full to bursting with him - and still, it wasn't enough. Low, urgent moans rose from her throat as she squirmed against him, urging him on. Her insides were so tight... so tense... it felt like a spring was coiled in her lower belly. She needed... more... something...
"Please," she breathed, and she didn't know what she was asking for, but somehow Harry knew. He increased the tempo, and she clung to him, desperate, as she begged, "More... more... oh please..."
He obliged, although she could feel his own heart racing, his breathing becoming irregular. Oh, she was so swollen... so simultaneously open to him and yet so tight around him... she needed release; her whole body cried out for it. She arched her back, and her erect nipples brushed his chest.
"Ohhh... oh, Harry... oooooohhh..." she moaned, her voice rising to a frantic pitch that ended in a sob of frustration.
"'S all right, Corrine," he soothed hoarsely, his warm breath tickling her ear. He wrapped his hands in the loose hair haloing her head and drove into her harder, faster, and she gasped incoherently as the sharp pangs of pleasure built to an unbearable peak. She gripped his slick back and pressed herself into him, needing to anchor their bodies together. Their foreheads touched, and without slowing his pace, he locked eyes with her, gazing down at her lovingly as he whispered, "Hold onto me real tight now..."
He kissed her then, and the pull of his mouth against hers was the final sensation her body had been waiting for. She felt a tingling feeling, first in her toes, and then spreading like a wave to every other nerve ending of her body. With a final thrust at his hips, a sharp cry, and a rush of fluid, her body convulsed, her inner walls squeezing, pulsing erratically around him, as the world exploded around her. A few seconds later, she felt him curse and shudder inside of her, and knew that he too had reached the apex of his pleasure.
They clung together, gasping, limbs wrapped around one another, as the aftershocks trembled through their bodies. He recovered his senses first, and while she lay still quivering, incapable of movement or coherent thought, he comforted her, pressing lazy kisses to her swollen lips as they floated blissfully back to earth. Gradually, as she emerged from her stupor, she reciprocated, caressing his face and breathlessly whispering "I love you" over and over onto his lips in between kisses.
He eventually withdrew and gathered her to him, wrapping her in his arms. She felt their mingled fluids trickle out of her body and sighed deeply. She had never been so satisfied, and so happy, in her life.
They lay tangled together for some time without speaking, bathed in a peaceful glow. He stroked her hair as she lay her head on his shoulder, tracing the outline of the muscles in his chest. "Was that... supposed to happen?" she finally murmured shyly.
She felt a rumbling laugh in his chest, and she tipped her head up to look in his eyes. "You mean... the end?" he asked. He smirked. "If your lover is any good, then yes."
She reached up to caress his face with her fingertips. "Then you are very, very good," she assured him fervently.
He laughed again and began covering her with kisses. After a time, she broke away, breathless, and asked, her voice low and sensual, "How long until we can do that again?"
Charles Lightoller was walking past Lowe's door some time later when he thought he heard the sound of murmured voices inside. Odd, he thought. The officers never had visitors on this floor... I wonder if Ismay stopped by to reprimand him?
He listened a few seconds longer, and this time he caught a breathy sigh. What...? He took a step closer to the door. Then he heard the unmistakable sound of Corrine's voice, moaning Lowe's name.
He smiled. It appeared that the bolshie Welsh lad had wasted no time in making things right with his girl, then - and in the best possible way, from the sounds of it. Well, well. Maybe he wouldn't have to beat some sense into his arse after all. He might even end up liking the bloke, if he was truly done hurting that sweet little thing.
But he had to admit, he envied the man as well. He sighed. How he missed Sylvia, he thought longingly, as he continued his lonely trek down the hall to his room.
Songs: Collide - Howie Day; Come On Get Higher - Matt Nathanson
